


falling with you

by purplehedgehogskies



Series: in your orbit [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (but it's early!), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Family Feels, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gay Keith (Voltron), Graduation, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Lance & Rachel (Voltron) are Twins, M/M, Nurse Lance (Voltron), Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Public Display of Affection, Sibling Bonding, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Use of AFAB terms, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, brief discussion of gender dysphoria, discussion of past relationships, nonbinary author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplehedgehogskies/pseuds/purplehedgehogskies
Summary: In celebrating Lance's graduation with his family, Keith finds that being part of the Espinosa McClain clan means being part of the drama. And he finds that he wouldn't have it any other way.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Rachel (Voltron)
Series: in your orbit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980274
Comments: 5
Kudos: 111





	falling with you

**Author's Note:**

> My intention was to write Lance and Keith's first time in the same universe as a previous fic of mine, "something's gotta give," but then I stumbled into a plot and ran with it. There's a lot of substance here besides the spicy stuff, and it is accidentally more about family than the romance & sex, but there are still some warnings and disclaimers to throw out. 
> 
> If you want to skip through the explicit parts: The sexier bit begins around "Last one up is a rotten egg," and goes almost up to the next break; the following scene includes some less explicit morning sex. Also okay to skip to the next break. 
> 
> Keith is a trans man and his body is described in detail, using some afab associated words. So, if that will make you dysphoric, please skip the sex! I am a nonbinary person with a somewhat limited lens, and my intention is not to objectify or essentialize anyone; the choices I made for this story were made because they felt right for this version of Keith.

* * *

The day of Lance’s graduation was hot and sunny. Keith liked warm weather, but he usually spent days like this in shorts and loose shirts—since his top surgery, he even wore tank tops and open button-ups sometimes. Now, as he pulled up on the street outside Lance’s apartment building, he already felt sweaty at the creases of his knees and under his arms. Luckily, he’d picked a short-sleeved shirt and was at least a little more comfortable for it; Shiro had insisted he needed a tie, though. Keith tugged at the awful thing as he crossed the road to the covered entrance of Lance’s building.

It was nothing fancy, just a little awning to protect the call system from the elements, but Lance had said once that it was reminiscent of the big ones in Manhattan over the doors of hotels and apartments on the Upper West Side. He’d said it made him feel like they should have a doorman.

They did not have a doorman. They had a button for Keith to press insistently, setting off the buzzer inside Lance’s apartment. Hunk’s voice came through – “Dude, chill”—as he buzzed Keith in. Keith sighed and went inside, into blissful air conditioning and up a flight of stairs to Lance and Hunk’s door.

Hunk was waiting for him, leaning in the open doorway, holding his cat, Dolly Parton, in his arms.

“He was supposed to come down,” said Keith. “I thought your moms were picking you up.” 

“Curling iron incident, apparently. Told them I could catch a ride with you and meet them there,” said Hunk, stepping aside to grant Keith entrance. “Is that cool?”

“Yeah,” said Keith. Hunk closed the door behind them and released the cat, smiling as she wound around Keith’s legs. Keith frowned down at her. “You’re getting hair on me.”

Dolly sauntered off, leaping up onto the couch beside Lance as he looked over a spread of miscellany on the coffee table. A piece of notebook paper with Lance’s scrawly handwriting, an assortment of bowties, his decorated grad cap, and his honors cords in a snakelike pile. His leg jiggled as steepled his fingers and mumbled to himself—reading the piece of paper, Keith guessed.

He wasn’t stressed or nervous, exactly, just deep in thought. Keith’s suspicion was confirmed as he walked up, standing over him, and Lance turned a bright smile on him.

“Wow, baby,” said Lance, reaching out and hooking his fingers into the front pocket of Keith’s chinos and tugging gently. “You clean up nice.”

“As you’ve said.”

“I got distracted,” said Lance. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to finish getting ready,” said Hunk, walking off down the hall. Lance craned his neck, as if making sure Hunk was out of sight and earshot before he stood up and draped his arms over Keith’s shoulders and kissed him.

It was sweet and soft, even with the way Lance tried to sneak in a little tongue, and Keith indulged him for a minute before pulling away and unraveling himself from Lance’s embrace. Lance pouted for all of five seconds before turning to the mess he made of the table, planting his hands on his hips.

“So. I can’t pick a bowtie.”

“The rainbow one,” said Keith. “Represent.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” said Lance, picking up the tie and walking off to the open bathroom door. Keith followed him and leaned in the doorway as Lance flipped up his collar and tied the bowtie with deft fingers, stopping partway through to undo it and start over. Keith figured it helped, since it looked right when he finished. Keith stepped into Lance’s space and turned his collar back down—not because he really needed to, but he knew it would make Lance blush.

“Hi,” said Lance.

“Hey,” said Keith.

“Excuse me,” said Hunk, ushering them out of the bathroom so he could retrieve his robe from where it hung on the curtain rod beside Lance’s. Keith was almost certain Lance’s mother had told them to hang them there and steam up the bathroom with hot water to get the wrinkles out. She probably hadn’t accounted for how messy they were, hence the damp spots at the bottom hem of both gowns.

“Okay, okay,” said Lance. “Let’s go.”

He ducked back into the bathroom to grab his gown and folded it messily in half, tossing it over his shoulder. The plastic hanger fell to the floor with a clatter; Keith laughed as Lance jumped at the sound.

Hunk rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he walked back towards the front door, throwing on the robe and picking his cords up off the counter as he went. Lance stopped at the coffee table again, folding up his paper and slipping it into his pocket, draping his cords around his neck, and handing Keith his cap.

“Can you help me with this when we get there?”

“What’s there to help you with?” asked Keith. Lance shook his head, as though he couldn’t stoop so low as to explain. Keith took the hat and tucked it under his arm. “Okay, fine.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

Keith withdrew it, looking over the design to check for damage. Lance had spent hours on it last week, enlisting Allura for her penmanship and collection of craft supplies –it was covered in overlapping paper cutouts of stars and the script read “your brain gets smart, but your head gets dumb.” It was unaffected by its time in Keith’s armpit, but it was still just as ridiculous.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Hey now,” said Lance. “I’m an all star.”

Keith turned on his heel, heading towards the door. Behind him, he heard Lance talking to Dolly –presumably pointing to his pile of bowties and firmly saying “No” to discourage her from playing with them.

When the three of them finally got out the door, Hunk lingered to lock it while Keith and Lance headed down to the car. At the bottom of the stairs, Lance manhandled Keith a little to get a better look at his outfit—specifically the back. He whistled.

“Stop,” said Keith, but if anyone was allowed to admire Keith’s ass in these pants, it was Lance. And it wasn’t like Keith didn’t _know_.

Hunk appeared on the stairs. “What is he doing?”

“Ugh,” said Keith. “Let’s just go, _Jesus_.”

****

It turned out that what Lance meant when he asked for help with his hat was wrestling with it for ten minutes in the men’s room so the pointy front was pinned away and the hat showed just the right amount of his hair.

“Everyone else is wearing the same hat, Lance,” said Keith around the bobby pin in his mouth.

“Girls do this all the time,” said Lance. “Rachel’s was pinned back at her graduation last weekend.”

“I don’t spend a lot of time looking at your sister’s hair,” said Keith. “Also, I was not at her graduation.”

Lance sighed, but he didn’t seem to have a retort. Keith pinned back another part of the cap and secured it to Lance’s head. Lance frowned in the mirror, not really looking at Keith.

“What?” asked Keith.

“I asked her,” said Lance. “The other day. After she cancelled our lunch plans.”

“She said no?”

“No,” said Lance. “She just. She asked me why I didn’t pick you, or Mama, or…”

As his semester had come to a close, Lance spent half his time cramming for his finals and the other hemming and hawing about which of his loved ones he would have onstage at his pinning ceremony. The day after the graduation, Lance and his classmates would receive commemorative pins to celebrate becoming a nurse; it was apparently a pretty big deal. The person he picked wasn’t just there to present the pin, but also because the pin was dedicated to them. If Keith understood right, it was like thanking them for being there through the journey or something.

He’d decided on Rachel. He told Keith before he ever mentioned it to his sister, because he tended to tell Keith everything.

It had been at the end of Lance’s first day of finals, when Keith came by with his favorite Thai takeout and climbed into bed with Lance and his textbooks. Lance had reluctantly put aside his studying to eat, and he’d looked at his spicy noodles instead of at Keith when he said he was choosing Rachel.

“You’re super important to me, I love you, you know that,” he’d rushed to say. “But Rachel…”

“Is your twin,” Keith had finished for him. “I get it. I think it’ll be great.”

Lance had gone on to tell stories about him and Rachel for a while, until long after the food was gone.

“Did you explain it to her?” asked Keith now. He was pretty much finished with the cap, but he arranged Lance’s bangs just a little bit before stepping back and leaning against the sinks. He checked the time on his phone—they had a few more minutes before Lance had to be in line and Keith had to find his seat.

“Uh,” said Lance, scratching at the back of his neck. Or trying, anyway, since his collar was mostly in the way. “Not really. I wanted to save something for the speech.”

“That’s what’s in your pocket.”

“Yeah,” said Lance, reaching out and fiddling idly with the end of Keith’s tie. It was one of his nicer ones, a neat patchwork of blues and reds with enough of that maroon shade to really go with the color of his dress pants. In the car, Lance had poked fun, thanking him for choosing the tie that didn’t look like it belonged on a pop punk album cover in 2009. Lance went on, “It’s not really done but it’s, like, as ready as it will ever be.”

“You should talk to Rachel about it before tomorrow. Maybe show her what you wrote.” Keith shrugged. “Or if you’re so afraid she’ll flake, just ask someone else.”

Keith thought Rachel was great, really. But she was more of a hurricane of a person than Lance was, and that was saying a lot. The problem Keith had was that, in her tendency to rush into the next thing, she always seemed to leave Lance in the dust. It hurt Lance more than he would say.

“If I told anyone that _you_ encouraged _me_ to communicate better, they’d look at me like I grew another head,” said Lance. “Last weekend, Luis called you the ‘strong, silent type.’ My dad said he knew you for months before you ever said a word to him.”

“They’re not _wrong_. You’re just special,” Keith said with a chuckle. Lance smiled, but looked down at where his thumb was rubbing a circle into the fabric of Keith’s tie. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, the word riding on the end of a heavy sigh. “I _don’t_ think she’ll flake out on me. I really don’t.”

“But.”

“But it also seemed like it didn’t matter to her. _Oh, Keith didn’t want to? What about V? Will Mama’s feelings be hurt_?” Lance’s voice shifted higher, but only slightly, as he mimicked his sister—and it was eerily accurate. “Almost like she was trying to convince me to change my mind, you know. But I didn’t write this fucking dedication speech for nothing!”

Lance dropped Keith’s tie and spun away from him, taking the few steps towards the stalls, turning, returning. If Keith let him, he’d keep pacing the bathroom until he missed his own graduation.

“And that’s why I think you should talk to her.”

Keith uncrossed his arms, opening them up to Lance and sighing contently as his boyfriend pressed up into his space, but when he moved his head just so he jabbed Keith in the cheek with the corner of his cap.

“Sorry,” said Lance as he pulled back and Keith rubbed his cheek. “Forgot I had it on.”

Lance leaned in, brushing Keith’s fingers away so he could kiss the sore spot. It was sickeningly tender and Keith wanted to pull him into a stall and kiss him forever. Instead, he took Lance by the shoulders and steered him out of the bathroom – he had places to be.

****

When Keith found the Espinosa McClains, there were two seats left in the row that they’d claimed. He had no idea how they’d managed to get enough tickets for everyone, but Lance’s parents, his grandmother, and two of his siblings all greeted Keith warmly as he took his seat. At the other end of the row, Hunk’s moms leaned together and inspected the program; he’d only met them once, but he’d recognize them anywhere, even without their distinctive tattoos – Hunk resembled his mother Talia closely in looks, and his mother Christine in warmth and temperament.

When the whole family resumed their chatting, Keith shifted forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his thighs and folding his hands. The seat immediately beside Keith was occupied by Marco, who was playing a game on his phone, and Veronica next to him. He didn’t care if both of them heard, but Keith aimed his question at Veronica:

“Where’s Rachel?”

“Running on Rachel time,” said V with a roll of her eyes. “She’s coming, though.”

“Good.”

“Why?” asked Marco without looking up from his screen. “She’s not _your_ sister.”

Veronica punched her brother in the arm. He called her several names in Spanish, earning a sharp look from his mother.

“I don’t see why it matters so much that Rachel comes, but Luis missing this is fine,” said Marco.

“Rachel is Lance’s twin,” said V. “Maybe this isn’t a big deal to you, the guy who refused to walk at his own graduation and broke his mother’s heart, but—”

Keith sighed. He hadn’t meant to stir the pot, but in a family full of big personalities it was inevitable. He tuned out their bickering and pulled out his phone, chewing on his lip as he scrolled through work emails –a client cancelled their Monday morning class, and Allura needed him to look over the schedules for summer obedience classes before they started enrollment.

Five minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start, Rachel plopped down into the seat next to Keith and slung her arm around the back of his chair. She’d straightened her long hair—it was naturally wavy like Lance’s –and it tickled when it brushed against his arm, so Keith leaned away.

“Heya, handsome,” she said. Keith just leveled her with what he hoped was an ambivalent expression, and not a venomous one. Either way, she flashed a crooked smile and withdrew her arm, digging in her purse and drawing out a digital camera. “There’s a picture from our eighth-grade graduation of Lance picking his nose while he waited to be called. Here’s hoping we can replicate that.”

“Doubtful,” said Keith. Rachel glanced at him again with a raised eyebrow, an expression Lance wore frequently, though he had never accompanied it with false eyelashes and shimmering highlighter. “Glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” she said. “Hey, are you—”

“Oh, Rachel’s here!” exclaimed Lance’s mother, cutting Rachel off. She proceeded to spread the news, and Keith sunk back in his seat and tuned out the stream of conversation that flowed over and around him. It was to be expected.

Rachel didn’t try to talk to him again. He knew it was unreasonable to be so curt with her, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was hurting Lance. Lance’s feelings weren’t fragile, exactly, and he’d told Keith many times that he and Rachel had a good relationship. Lance was used to her skewed sense of time and rapidly-shifting priorities. But this time he was counting on her for something that really mattered to him, and it seemed like she didn’t recognize that.

When the ceremony started, Keith put his phone away and paid attention to the speeches—though they were boring—and all the names that came before Lance’s—which was also boring. Marco pretended to fall asleep on Veronica’s shoulder, and she shook him off even as she smiled. Rachel knelt up on her chair and scanned the sea of graduates for Lance, as though she could get a good picture of the back of his head. The man behind her sighed heavily, but didn’t say anything.

Graduates from the nursing college had their own section of the program and their own list; after the masters’ programs cycled through all their graduates, the nursing students were up. Keith spotted Lance as he rose from his seat, spotting the stars that on his cap as the glitter caught the sunlight. He nudged Rachel, who also appeared to be looking for her brother, so Keith saved her some trouble.

“Right there. The stars,” said Keith.

Rachel lit up, standing and holding her camera at the ready for when Lance was facing their way. Soon enough he was in the line that lead to the stage. Rachel laughed to herself as she took a few shots, settling back down to show Keith.

One of the slightly blurry Lances was looking out over the crowd, another fiddling with his bowtie, and one smiling when the girl in front of him turned to say something to him. And somehow, as though Rachel had prophesied it, she’d caught him wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“It’s not quite picking, but it’ll do. Good enough for the wedding slideshow, you think?”

Keith shrugged. “They’re gonna call Lance soon.”

Marco had apparently caught some of their conversation, though, and was leaning in.

“Rachel, you’re scaring the man shitless,” said Marco. “He’s only been with Lance like three months.”

“They’re in E,” said Keith. “Shut up, or I will do it for you.”

Marco’s eyes slid over Keith’s arms, conveniently visible in his short sleeves, and sat up straight in his seat again, smiling sheepishly. Keith wouldn’t actually beat up Lance’s brother, and he wasn’t as built anymore after those weeks in recovery. But lately he’d been hitting the gym a few days a week to work his way back up. It was nice to know his gains were noticeable.

And then Lance was right at the stage, his excitement and energy palpable even from yards away.

“Leandro Manuel Espinosa McClain,” said the dean. Rachel was in the aisle snapping pictures, Lance’s parents were crying, and V was waving in the hope that Lance would see her. Keith sat and watched, feeling a little teary-eyed himself with the way his love and pride swelled up in his chest. 

Lance crossed the stage with the same lanky grace with which he did anything, and he was radiant with his sparkling stars and his toothy grin. He got his diploma, he shook hands with the university president, and he made his way to the other side.

Before descending the stairs, Lance stopped and gazed out at the crowd, looking for his family, and Keith among them. He found them—thanks to Veronica, who was still waving—and gave a thumbs up with his free hand. Then he switched his tassel over and bounded down the steps, hurrying to his seat as they called the next name.

Needless to say, Rachel talking about marriage didn’t scare Keith in the slightest. This was a forever kind of feeling, as certain as the hot afternoon sun and the name Keith chose for himself.

Keith didn’t feel so sour anymore, now that he’d seen Lance take his symbolic steps into the future. He watched the rest of the graduation, but felt distracted –he definitely found his eyes casting back towards the seats, where Lance’s stars were like a beacon identifying him as safe shores. His thoughts were all wistful, sentimental hogwash. He felt almost as proud when Hunk crossed the stage.

His dumb ex graduated today, too –Keith watched his stupid face cross the stage and was surprised to find that even Stirling couldn’t ruin his floaty mood.

When the ceremony drew to a close, they met Lance on the sprawling greenspace situated in the center of campus. He stood on a bench and waved them over, hopping down as they approached and opening his arms.

“Look at me! I’m a free man!”

“You’re graduating, not getting out of prison,” said Veronica. She wrapped her arms around Lance and pulled him close, squeezing the air out of Lance until he squeaked. “Congratulations.”

The rest of the family took turns hugging Lance, repeating again and again how happy and how proud they were to see him graduate. While he waited for his turn, Keith sidestepped over to where Hunk was talking to his parents and reintroduced himself. They were as nice as he remembered, when he’d met them in passing years ago.

When Lance’s family had finished showering him in praise, but lingered in a semicircle around him, Keith excused himself. He made his way to Lance’s side, where he belonged, and situated his hand at the small of Lance's back.

“Hi,” said Keith. He leaned in to kiss Lance’s cheek, to rest his chin on Lance’s shoulder for a moment as he said, softly so only Lance could hear, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Lance’s face was warm, and not just because he was baking in the sun under layers of formal clothing and his graduation gown. Keith kissed him again, just because.

“Rachel is taking a picture, just so you know,” said Lance.

“Typical,” said Keith. Keith shifted his hand so he had a secure hold on Lance’s middle. “Wanna show off a little? For the camera.”

“Huh?”

“A grand act of PDA. Yes or no?”

“Yeah, sure—Oh!”

Lance’s confirmation had barely left his lips before Keith turned their bodies and dipped him, catching Lance’s shoulders with his other arm on the way down. Keith laughed at Lance’s exclamation, and laughed harder when Lance said, a little panicked – “Do NOT drop me.”

He got his bearings quickly after that, wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders and smothering his laughter with a kiss. It earned them whistles and cheers from the family, but they couldn’t hold it forever, so Keith eased them back up. He made sure Lance’s feet were firmly on steady ground before he loosened his hold, drawing his arms down Lance’s arms and taking his hands instead.

“That brings me back,” said Abuelita, her hands folded over her heart. “Your grandfather always swept me off my feet the same way.”

Keith smiled and kissed Lance’s hand, deepening the flush on his face.

“The pins held,” he said. “I figured they would.”

“What? Oh.” Lance’s hand flew up to where his cap was still nestled on his head, even after the dip. “Oh, yeah. Bobby pins are a genius invention.”

****

Lance’s family didn’t live in the city proper, but where the suburbs and county blurred together. They had a swath of farmland, just enough that they pawned off their extra vegetables to anyone they could find but not enough to sell and turn a profit. Lance’s mother had inherited the farm from her stepfather when Lance was a kid, and it had been the crux of the reason that Mama had moved back to the states and brought the family with her.

As he and Keith drove past houses with increasingly sprawling lawns, Lance remembered what it had been like watching these houses pop up over the years, and before that, watching just the rolling countryside out the window. He remembered being nervous and excited all at once about the new chapter that the farm represented, but Rachel had been more scared, especially because Marco and V were so angry. Lance had held Rachel’s hand as much as he could to comfort her.

She hadn’t needed him to hold her hand since. Not really. Even now that they’d both graduated college and stepping into the real world, with jobs and debt and things scarier than moving to Grampa McClain’s farm, a place they’d already been. The unknown used to scare Rachel; she was afraid of the culture shock, afraid other kids wouldn’t want to be her friend, afraid she didn’t know enough English.

Things like that didn’t scare Rachel anymore. Actually, it was hard to imagine the Rachel he knew now being afraid of anything.

Lance was still pretty afraid, even when he was excited, too.

He turned from the window and fiddled with the radio.

“I was listening to that,” said Keith.

“ _You_ were listening to Taylor Swift?”

“Yes. It was _Bad Blood_.”

Lance laughed.

“What,” said Keith. “I like _Bad Blood_.”

“You would,” said Lance. “It’s one of the angrier ones.”

“Honestly, Lance,” said Keith. “You know I listen to lots of different stuff. I’m from _Texas_. I have a whole country playlist.”

“Gross.”

“You live on a farm!” said Keith, glancing away from the road to level Lance with a look that he once would’ve said was an angry face, but that he now knew was the face Keith made when rising to a challenge. Even if the challenge was just banter about country music.

“A guy can live on a farm and still have taste.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Let me know when you meet that guy.”

“Fuck you,” said Lance.

“Promise?”

And if they weren’t pulling into the driveway, Lance might have done something to wipe the smirk off of Keith’s face. Something that would probably involve pulling over and would very likely have involved his hands in places where he’d been longing to put them all day.

But Mama was waving at them from the doorstep and Keith was tugging the keys from the ignition and spinning the ring around his finger. It was smooth and sexy and Lance wanted to kick something. He plucked his cap off of the dash and stumbled out of the car, jogging up to the house and kissing his mother on the cheek before ducking inside.

It certainly shoved away the indecent thoughts, especially accompanied by the sight of Marco lounging on the couch in his basketball shorts and without a shirt. Ever the quick-change artist, as long as it meant getting out of nice clothes and into dumb ones. Lance kicked the couch and earned a dismayed grunt from his brother.

He was far less frustrated by the time Keith made it inside, followed by Mama.

“Keith’s being mean to me,” said Lance.

“I doubt it,” said his mother. Lance pouted, and Keith came over and also administered a kick to the couch, jostling Marco further.

“Keith’s being mean to _me_ ,” Marco groaned.

“That’s fine,” said Mama. “Put a shirt on and set the table for dinner, Marco.” As he got up and trudged up the stairs, she shook her head. “He’s twenty-five and acts just like he did at seventeen. Some things never change.”

With that, she took Keith’s arm and guided him into the kitchen. Stealing Lance’s boyfriend. Lance followed his brother up the stairs and into their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and dumping his cap and gown on his bare mattress. Marco rummaged in his dresser for a shirt and tugged it on.

“Surprised he didn’t fuck off after the ceremony,” said Marco. Lance sat on the mattress and leaned back on his hands.

“Keith? Why wouldn’t he come to dinner?”

Marco shrugged. “For one, you’ve only been dating a couple months.”

“We’ve known each other for years,” said Lance. “It was a long time coming, dude.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” said Lance. “You said ‘for one.’ What else is there?”

“I thought Rachel freaked him out mentioning marriage or something. I don’t know, man,” Marco said, scratching his head and mussing his already messy hair. “Plus, he’s mad at Rachel for something else. Something about tomorrow? I wasn’t really listening to her.”

“Do you ever?” asked Lance.

“Not really,” said Marco. He shuffled to the door. “Well. Uh. Glad Keith stuck around. I hope he, um. Keeps sticking around.”

Marco slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Lance flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and his collection of glow-in-the-dark stars. _That was awkward_.

It was no different than any juxtaposition of _Marco_ and _sentimentality._

Lance sighed and hauled himself back up, sinking down to the floor next to the bed to access the drawers in the frame. He rifled through the few things he kept here, digging out an old pair of swim trunks and a t-shirt from his stint with the prom committee. The change of clothes was a huge relief, but Lance still felt kind of gross after shedding his shirt and slacks, so he went hunting for deodorant.

He’d found some (on Marco’s side, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him) and was lifting his arm to apply it when there was a light knock on the door. Huh.

“Come in?”

The bedroom door opened and Keith leaned in, hand still on the doorknob. “Hey, dinner’s ready.”

“You’re in trouble, mister,” said Lance. He finished up with the deodorant and put it back on Marco’s cluttered desk before turning on Keith, hands on his hips. Keith stood in the doorway still, but now he looked deeply confused. “C’mere.”

Keith cautiously stepped into the room and eased the door shut. Lance closed the distance between them and slid his hands around Keith’s waist, squeezing his hips as he ducked to kiss along his boyfriend’s jaw. Keith sighed happily at the contact and his hand slid up Lance’s arm.

“What,” said Keith. 

“I saw your duffel bag in the car,” Lance said, nosing Keith’s collar aside to mouth at his neck as he snaked his hands further back and, blessedly, right into Keith’s back pockets. “Dare I ask?”

“Oh. I thought since Hunk was gonna be,” Keith paused when Lance made his way up to his cheek, trying to turn and catch Lance’s lips. Lance dodged it, moving up towards Keith’s hairline and drawing another lovely sound out of him before he relocated his train of thought. “Hunk is stayin’ with his parents tonight, yeah?”

“Yup,” said Lance. He pulled back, leaving his hands but otherwise disengaging. He had to really look at Keith for this; had to really eliminate all doubt that Keith wanted what Lance thought he wanted. “Hey, you know there’s no pressure, right? To fuck, I mean. Or, uh, whatever.” 

They hadn’t had any kind of sex yet. They couldn’t get hot and heavy right after Keith’s surgery, and even after Lance knew they were in the clear, he didn’t want to assume. Just because Keith was ready to go back to the gym didn’t mean he was ready for sex.

It was cool, though. Lance liked just making out and cuddling and spending time with Keith. As flirty as Lance was, he’d always tended to ease his foot off the gas when he started seeing someone. He liked to know a person before spending time between their legs; he liked them to know him, at the very least so they weren’t surprised when he cracked a joke in the middle of things.

But Lance knew Keith. Lance knew Keith very well.

“Or, uh, whatever?” asked Keith, his expression shifting into a devilish smirk. “What does that even mean?”

“It means _fucking_ isn’t a very romantic way to put it, okay?” Lance said. “Leave me alone.”

“Ah, I thought you meant—”

“Nope, no, please do not say more. I will die,” said Lance. “My family is downstairs waiting for us to have dinner with them and you know that it will be hard enough for me to reign in the thoughts you have already planted, you monster.”

“Fine,” said Keith. “I’ll save it for later.”

“Perfect,” said Lance. He squeezed Keith’s butt a little before withdrawing his hands, bringing them up to Keith’s face to hold him there for another kiss before they went downstairs. Keith followed him down, and once they reached the bottom of the stairs, he steered Lance by the shoulders through the living room and kitchen and into the dining room.

Lance always preferred the kitchen, but the dining room was a more formal space and had more room for everyone, especially when they put the extra panels in the table. Maybe that was what Mama had stolen Keith for, earlier. To his surprise, the room was also decorated for the occasion, with blown up pictures of Lance on the wall and the same “Congrats, Grad!” sign that they’d used for Rachel’s party last week.

“Ew,” said Lance.

“What?” Keith asked, standing at his side and barely grazing his shoulder.

“The pictures. You can see my pores.”

Keith snorted. “Did you really have to go to your high school graduation with that zit on your forehead?”

“We could see it from the audience,” said Marco. Lance was right behind his chair, and easily pulled Marco into some semblance of a chokehold, only rough enough to annoy him and never to actually hurt him. Not in front of their mother, anyway.

“Sit down, sit down,” said Lance’s father, eyeing Lance in that way that was just as potent now as when they were kids. Here, _sit down_ meant something more like _stop that immediately_.

Lance released his brother and rounded the table to take his usual spot across from Marco, and Keith slipped into the chair beside him, with V on his other side. Once, Keith had downed a few beers and ranked Lance’s siblings from his favorite to least favorite – Veronica topped the list, so Lance suspected Keith positioned himself between her and Lance on purpose. Today it would also put more distance between Keith and Rachel, maybe easing the tension that had apparently bloomed between them.

Dinner, as always, was a boisterous affair. Dishes were passed, laughter was shared, and Keith followed threads of conversation that he would have lost when he first started coming over. He even participated in a conversation Abuelita and Papa were having in Spanish about the drama they both watched—mostly he asked stilted questions, but Lance was still gleaming with pride. There were so many reasons to love Keith, but how he fit into Lance’s family—he was still pretty quiet, but he knew their home and their ways and when he did speak, it was with ease. It wasn’t a seamless fit, but it was an addition that made so much sense.

After dinner and Lance’s favorite dulce de leche cake, the family dispersed a little—Rachel and V got started on the dishes, Marco disappeared upstairs to play video games, and Lance’s parents and grandmother settled in to watch a game show rerun dubbed in Spanish. The voices from the TV and murmured conversation from the kitchen filtered through the open back door, where Lance had taken Keith to sit on the squeaky wooden porch swing.

“Do you want to swim in a little bit? Before the sun goes down,” said Lance, pushing them gently back and forth with his bare foot against the porch. Keith sat with his legs up on the seat, one propped up against the arm beside him and the other tucked beneath.

“I didn’t bring a suit,” said Keith, his cheek pressed against his own leg.

“You can borrow one of my dad’s. Mine would be too small, I think.”

Keith nodded. “Sure. Sounds good.”

Silence stretched out between them, interrupted only by the swing’s creaking chains.

“Hey,” said Lance. “Uh. Are you mad at Rachel?”

Keith closed his eyes. Lance didn’t know if the evening sun was too bright in his face, or if he was closing them in response to the question.

“Dude,” Lance coaxed.

“I’m not mad,” said Keith gruffly. He took a deep breath, let it out slow. “Frustrated. I don’t trust that she’s committed to the whole pinning thing.”

“Oh,” said Lance. “Yeah, I see how you could think that.”

He didn’t know how to explain to Keith that Rachel was more reliable and engaged than she seemed, while also acknowledging that he was sort of worried, too. What Lance had expected from Rachel was teasing and boasting and maybe being a little unprepared or a little late, because that’s how she was. He hadn’t expected her to begrudgingly agree after listing everyone else he could possibly ask.

“I can try to tone it down,” said Keith, lifting his head and turning to face Lance. “Try to give her the benefit of the doubt or something. Be nice. Let her braid my hair. I don’t know.”

“You say that like you don’t know what a girl is.”

“I don’t,” said Keith. “I _definitely_ didn’t think I was one for the first fifteen years of my life.”

Lance smiled at him. He smiled back, and it made Lance feel warm—not flustered, but comfortable. Content.

“I love you,” Lance said. “I’ll talk to her when I get the chance.”

“I love _you_ ,” said Keith. He leaned back into his leg again, closing his eyes, but the smile remained on his face.

****

The opportunity to talk to Rachel came within the hour, when Lance gave Keith Papa’s old swim trunks and ushered him into the bathroom to change. As Lance opened the linen closet to get towels for them, Rachel threw open the door to her room and looked triumphant, like she’d _caught_ him, even though he’d never been intentionally evading her.

“Is this an ambush?” Lance asked, easily. He draped one towel around his neck and rolled up another to carry under his arm. He handed a third to Rachel. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Lance closed the door and heading downstairs. Rachel trailed behind him, her feet light on the steps. She followed him all the way outside, where he put Keith’s towel on one of the patio loungers and sat on the end of it. She stood over him, hands on her hips.

“So?” she asked. “What the fuck is up with Keith?”

“He’s not mad at you,” said Lance.

“Seems like he’s mad,” said Rachel. “He’s barely said a word to me—and before you say it’s because he doesn’t talk much to begin with, that’s not what I mean. I know the cold shoulder when I see it, Lance. He’s mad, or jealous, or whatever, and—”

“Hold on, what?” Lance asked. “Jealous? Of _what_?”

“You picked me to dedicate your pin to,” said Rachel.

Lance couldn’t help but laugh, but he managed to contain it when she glared at him. It didn’t help that they heard the distinct sound of the screen door’s hinges, both of them looking over to see that Keith had made his way downstairs. He didn’t even make it all the way through the doorway before he looked between them, figured out what was going on, and ducked back inside to wait it out.

“Look,” said Lance, turning back to his sister. “He’s not jealous. Keith’s…he keeps to himself. You know that. He wouldn’t want to be up there while I give the crowd a sappy speech about him. Plus, there’s no way that my relationship with Keith could ever outweigh my whole damn life being stuck with you.”

“Then what’s his problem?” she demanded. “There’s got to be _something_.”

Lance offered a shrug. Not an _I-Don’t-Know_ shrug, but one that was meant to defuse what he said. Give it less weight; soften the blow, because something told him that Rachel wouldn’t take it well.

“He’s worried you’ll back out and let me down.”

Rachel’s eyes went wide and her guard dropped, falling to pieces around her feet. She sunk down onto the chair beside him, curling in on herself, her head in her hands. She mumbled something, but it was directed more at the ground than at Lance, so he nudged her with his elbow.

“You’re gonna have to speak up,” he said.

“ _I_ _said_ that’s exactly why it doesn’t make sense that you picked _me_ ,” said Rachel, sitting up again and watching her own leg jiggle nervously. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I always let you down.”

“No,” said Lance. And then: “Well, sometimes. And I admit I was kind of worried you’d back out, too, but only because you made it seem like you didn’t _want_ to do it.”

“I do! I want to, Lance. I just don’t understand why you chose me when _anyone else_ would have made more sense.”

“You’re my—”

“Your twin?” Rachel finished, finally looking over. Lance didn’t like the look in her eyes—it was hurt and frustrated and sad, and it made the same feelings twist through his gut. “Lance, you can’t just…it’s supposed be someone who supports you, and who was there for you the whole time. That’s not me. I’m not…I fail you all the time. I’m not better because I’m your twin.”

“But I am,” said Lance. Rachel’s brow furrowed, a small sound of confusion slipping out of her, so Lance clarified: “ _I’m_ better because you’re my twin.”

Rachel spluttered, at a loss for words. If the circumstances were different, Lance might’ve delighted in leaving her speechless; it was so hard to do, after all. But today he just felt bad. It was bad enough that she felt so guilty, but it was worse because he couldn’t say she was wrong. It was bad enough that Rachel thought he could choose anyone else before her, but it was worse because Keith’s protective streak made her feel like she had driven a wedge between him and Lance.

Lance took a breath to steady himself before parsing out an explanation.

“When we were little, we were clumsy. Both of us, yeah, but especially you,” Lance leaned into her, playfully jostling her out of the blank state that had overcome her. “You’d get scrapes and bruises all the time, but I saw that you’d feel better when you had a band-aid. So, I started carrying band-aids.”

“That’s _not_ why you’re a nurse,” she said, firmly, like she knew it for sure. Lance shook his head. “You’re a nurse because—because you’re so good, and you want to help people, and…”

“Of course there’s more to it,” said Lance. “There’s so many reasons why anyone does anything. But when you needed me, I wanted to help you. Yeah, there were others who taught me to help, who made me feel like I could do whatever I set my mind to, all of that. But you were where it started. One of the first things I ever learned about myself, I learned because of you.”

“Oh,” said Rachel. “I do not know how to feel about that.”

“I’m sorry that Keith cold shouldered you,” said Lance. “He means well.”

“No,” she said, holding her index fingers against her eyes as if to hold in the tears that threatened to escape. “No, I’m glad he’s looking out for you. Even if it’s me he’s worried about.”

“I mean. He doesn’t understand sibling relationships. Only child, foster kid, the guy he calls his older brother is legally his adoptive father. So,” Lance counted the reasons on his fingers and shrugged. Rachel made an accusatory face. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not a secret. He alludes to it on his Instagram all the time. I know you follow him.”

“Alluding is not actually sharing personal information,” said Rachel.

“Well he knows I’m a loudmouth, so.”

At this, Rachel laughed. “Isn’t that the truth.”

Lance kicked her leg gently, and she kicked him back. This turned to playful shoving, and then he was chasing her around the yard, finally catching her around the middle and lifting her off her feet. She shrieked and Lance laughed as she flailed, but he quickly lost his footing and they both tumbled into the soft grass. Rachel laughed into the fabric at his shoulder, and Lance felt like he did when they had curled together in their toddler beds because they didn’t want to sleep apart, and when they faced their first day of school hand in hand, and when they’d given each other matching stick-and-poke tattoos of Saturn. He felt like he was sure he would when he stole her away to share a dance at her wedding, someday, and when she did the same for him.

“Hey,” said Lance. “Before, uh, when you said… you didn’t mean being twins isn’t important to you, right?”

“No,” she said. “No, of course not. I…sometimes I worry that it’s the only way we define ourselves, y’know? I’m me and you’re you, but sometimes I’m afraid you don’t see yourself as an individual, when really, you’re _so much more_ than just my twin. But I guess you’re smarter than that.”

“Yeah,” said Lance. “So…you’ll do the thing tomorrow?”

She hauled herself into a sitting position, and then up to her feet. With both hands, she reached out to pull him up. He didn’t need it, but he took her hands anyway.

“Yes,” she said as he got to his feet and brushed grass off of the back of his clothes. “I’ll do it. _Proudly_.”

“Thank you,” said Lance. Rachel grinned and tossed her hair dramatically as she turned away from him and waltzed towards the pool, effectively ending their moment and moving on into the next thing. Classic Rachel. As Lance made to go back to the house and give Keith the all-clear, he saw his man already leaning against the porch railing, a tiny smirk on his face and his shirt unbuttoned over his bare chest.

Lance jogged over, stepping carefully into the flower bed below where Keith stood and tilting his head up to gaze at Keith.

“Hey,” he said. “This reminds me of something.”

“Don’t say Romeo and Juliet.”

“Nah. I was thinking literally anything else with a romantic balcony scene,” said Lance. “No secrets or family feud. Only healthy, loving relationships.”

“Hm. Okay,” said Keith. “Are you guys good?”

Lance nodded and stretched up onto his tippy toes, puckering his lips. Keith laughed, but obliged him, leaning over the railing for a kiss.

****

After a few hours in the pool, the sky had darkened and the air had chilled. Keith had goosebumps wherever his skin was above the water, a contrast to how cold the water had felt in the sun. Lance and Rachel kept splashing at each other and jumping into the pool from the raised deck beside it, while Keith stayed on the sidelines, trying to keep his shoulders warm while treading water.

Finally, Lance swam over to him and asked, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Cold,” he said. Lance gasped, as though Keith had confessed that some grievous act had been committed against him.

“That simply won’t do,” said Lance. “Rachel, we’re leaving immediately. Keith is _cold_.”

Rachel pushed her arm through the water in a wide arc, sending a wave of water their way.

“Wimp!” she cried.

“Whatever,” said Keith. “We don’t have to leave.”

“No, it’s getting late,” said Lance. “And we’ve got places to be tomorrow.”

They climbed up out of the pool, onto the deck and down its stairs and Keith hoped he didn’t have any splinters in his feet from the rough, worn down planks. Rachel looked like she would follow, but then she ran the length of the deck and cannonballed back into the water.

“See you in the morning!” she called as they wrapped themselves in towels and trudged towards the house, grass sticking to their wet feet and ankles. Keith held his discarded shirt in his hand, figuring he would borrow a fresh one from Lance.

Inside, Lance’s parents were sitting together at the kitchen table, his father doing a crossword and his mother staring at a mostly blank Sudoku page. Keith shivered and headed towards the stairs, but Lance paused to talk to them, so Keith lingered, shivering in the doorway.

“We’re heading out,” said Lance. “I mean. I think we’ll rinse off the chlorine here –yes, _separately_ , Mama—but then we gotta go home.”

“Keith, sweetheart,” said Lance’s mother. “Why don’t you head upstairs? If Marco is hogging the hall bath, you can use ours, okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Keith. He and his wet, grassy feet had no more reason to stay, so he went upstairs and found the hall bathroom empty. He retrieved his clothes from Lance’s room, unacknowledged by Marco, and reached into Lance’s drawer to steal an old Disneyland shirt. He made quick work of his shower and felt fresh in his dry clothes, leaving the borrowed swimsuit on the towel rack.

Lance was waiting in the hall when he got out, holding fresh clothes and tapping his foot mindlessly.

“Hey,” said Keith. “Your turn.”

“Please don’t go talk to my parents,” said Lance. “Hide in my room.”

“Why?”

“They tried to give me a safe sex talk _again_ and I can’t let you face them alone after that,” Lance said, sighing dramatically. “They’re not embarrassed. They’ll pull the same shit with you.”

Keith laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Lance insisted. “It’s mortifying.”

“They care,” said Keith. “That’s a good thing.”

Lance stuck his tongue out petulantly and slipped into the steamed-up bathroom, and Keith went downstairs anyway rather than sitting with Marco and his loud video games. He put on his shoes and retrieved a plastic bag for his wet shirt from the closet under the stairs, and then sequestered himself safely in the corner of the sectional while he waited for Lance. 

When he emerged, his hair damp and curling and his flip flops in his hand, Lance called into the kitchen – “Goodnight, love you” –and jerked his head towards the door as though he couldn’t get out fast enough. Keith followed Lance out, his keys jingling as they dangled from his hand and accompanying the crickets’ song around them. Lance stopped at the steps and shoved his feet in the sandals, then hustled towards the car.

“Lance, relax,” said Keith. “What’s the rush?”

He turned around and caught Keith’s face in his hands, kissing him breathless. When he broke off, he was grinning.

“I just want you, okay?” said Lance. “I wanna go home and love on you, far away from my nosy family. So yes, I’m in a little bit of a rush.”

“Oh,” said Keith, feeling warmth in his cheeks. “Okay. I have no complaints.”

Lance laughed and pulled away, finishing his trek to the car and climbing inside when Keith unlocked it. Keith followed, and as soon as they were on the road Lance’s hand was resting on Keith’s thigh. He wasn’t doing anything with it, and it wasn’t quite enough to be distracting, but it was tantalizing all the same. Keith left the radio on, and Lance sometimes sang softly, almost like he didn’t know he was doing it, but otherwise the drive was quiet and charged.

In a good way.

When they got to Lance’s building, Keith turned into the parking lot to see if a guest space was open, because he was staying longer—there was one in a far corner of the lot, so they’d have to walk a little more, but it was better than nothing.

As soon as Keith turned the car off, Lance leaned across the console to kiss him, his hand migrating to palm at Keith’s hip. Keith sighed into Lance’s mouth, half out of exasperation and half out of contentment that Lance’s lips were on his. He loved kissing Lance, after all. He let himself savor it a moment, but he was determined not to progress much further in the car when there was a perfectly good bed upstairs.

“Lance,” he said, turning his head away. Lance just trailed his mouth down to his neck, earning a breathy laugh from Keith. “Lance, come on.”

Lance groaned and buried his face in Keith’s drying hair.

“Fine,” Lance grunted, pulling away and shoving open the door. Before Keith could even step out of the car, Lance had reached into the backseat and grabbed Keith’s bag. “Last one up is a rotten egg.”

Keith sighed and gave in, closing the door and locking it with the key fob before running after Lance, who was already halfway to the back door. The key he had for the front also worked on this side of the building, so when he got there he unlocked the door and held it open for Keith. Sticking with the competition that Lance had set forth, Keith didn’t wait up, bounding up the steps and down Lance’s hallway, skidding to a halt at the door as Lance jogged up behind him.

“I guess I’m the rotten egg,” said Lance. Keith took his bag while Lance unlocked the door, and held up a hand to prevent Lance from jumping him the second they were inside. Lance pouted. “Keeeith.”

“Jesus, let me take my shoes off,” said Keith. He wiggled out of his boots and nudged them with his feet so they sat nicely beside one another, toes to the wall. Lance petulantly kicked off his flip-flops and trudged off to his room. Keith heard the click of his bedside lamp, followed by a yelp. “What?”

“Dolly jumped up on the bed and spooked me,” said Lance. Keith made his way down the hall, finding Lance gathering the cat up in his arms and pressing a kiss to her head. He brushed past Keith, smiling over Dolly Parton’s halo of golden hair as he carried her off to the other side of the apartment. Keith watched from the doorway as Lance stopped at the hall closet and stretched up to retrieve something on the higher shelf. He tossed it into Hunk’s bedroom, releasing Dolly to bound after it, and closed the door most of the way behind her. “That’ll keep her busy.”

“What was it?”

“A toy with treats inside. She has to play with it to get them out,” said Lance, crossing the apartment again. “She’ll probably sleep on Hunk’s bed now that she’s in there.”

Most of the apartment was dark, except for the dim glow of the streetlights outside and a little puddle of light spilling out of the kitchen—Hunk and Lance always left the light above the stove on, for midnight snacking. When Lance passed the kitchen, its glow illuminated the beautiful tousle of his hair and the edge of the little planet tattoo that peeked out from under his shirt collar. Keith wanted to kiss him everywhere.

When he reached his bedroom, Lance slid inside and smoothly backed up against the door until he could hear the click of the latch.

Keith dumped his bag beside the bed and sat at the edge, toeing his socks off. Lance laughed and joined him, crawling to the center of the bed and sitting there, one leg extended and the other foot tucked under his thigh. He bounced a little with excitement when Keith climbed up to sit in front of him.

“Hi,” said Lance softly, smiling so big and bright. Keith kissed it off him immediately, sliding his hand up Lance’s bent leg until it stretched out on Keith’s other side and Lance leaned back, his head landing on his pillow and his spread legs welcoming Keith between them. Lance gasped into Keith’s mouth and pushed his hands up into his hair, scratching nicely at his scalp—and then, with a groan, he turned his head and broke their kiss.

“What?” Keith asked, nosing at Lance’s cheek.

“Hold on,” Lance answered, catching his breath. He untangled his fingers from Keith’s hair and pushed them into his own curls. “Just for a sec.”

Keith leaned back but stayed between Lance’s legs, kneeling on the bed and resting his hands carefully at Lance’s hips. Lance propped himself up on his elbows.

“Is there anything you want to talk to me about, first?” Lance asked. “I just. I realized that we might have some boundaries and stuff to lay out.”

“Oh,” said Keith. “Yeah, I guess.”

Usually Keith _did_ set out ground rules before getting to it, but his feelings for Lance were loud and made his list of _Dos and Don’ts_ easy to overlook. Plus, the script was a little outdated.

“Well, I used to always keep my chest covered; didn’t like to be touched there,” said Keith. “But that’s not so much of an issue anymore.”

“Right. Are you…does it still bother you at all?”

Keith shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s kind of numb in some places, but uh. Now that I’m flat, I like the idea. You touching me, holding me, whatever. So yeah, that’s good.”

“Okay. For me…uh, avoid my armpits maybe. You know they’re ticklish, and unless you want to derail anything sexy for an all-out war….”

Keith felt his smile spread. The guys he’d been with before had been fine with him wearing a shirt and marking his chest off limits, but they never really had anything to say for themselves. He appreciated that Lance not only understood the need for this conversation, but also that he was comfortable laying out his own boundaries.

“Oh, and the scar on my back is really sensitive. It’s always okay through fabric, but if you want to touch it just. Be careful, I guess,” Lance went on. “It doesn’t _hurt_ , just feels weird.”

The scar in question was broad and uneven across Lance’s shoulder blades. It was years old now, but Keith remembered—the spring of their Freshman year, when the weather was warming, Lance was riding Hunk’s handlebars along the part of campus that bled into historic downtown; when he’d been thrown from the bike, he’d landed on jagged pavement and torn up his back. Keith hadn’t been there when it happened, but he had stumbled upon the scene as the ambulance pulled up. Because Hunk was crying so hard, Keith stepped in to ride to the hospital and ended up holding Lance’s hand through the more painful parts of treating the wound.

It was ultimately fine, but it had shaken Lance up a little and thrown a wrench into his last few weeks of school. He’d worn a shirt in the pool that summer.

Needless to say, Lance was not allowed to ride on anyone’s handlebars anymore.

“Cool,” said Keith. “Um.”

“My mind is open. My ears are listening,” said Lance. “Anything you need for sex to be good for you, I will do my best.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” said Keith. “Well, I like…most things.”

“Okay,” said Lance. “So, you’re good with…receiving? In your, um…”

“Yeah,” said Keith. “I’ve always had sex that way. That’s what I knew about, y’know? Figured out the other stuff later.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you when I’m not really feeling it, okay? But I _am_ , today. I want you inside.” Keith looked up from where his hand was toying with Lance’s shirt, idly and thoughtlessly. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it, much less that he was watching his own hand instead of Lance’s face. That was a mistake, because Lance looked good like this—in the warm lamplight, his features relaxed. He was hanging onto Keith’s every word, and it made Keith feel almost like it wasn’t awkward at all.

“Um. So,” said Lance, his hand finding its way back up to Keith’s hair, winding a strand around his finger. “You know about me being uncircumcised, yeah?” Keith nodded—Lance had overshared early on in their friendship, embarrassing literally everyone in the room. Lance took Keith’s affirmation and kept talking, “What else? I’m kind of a basic bitch in bed, so. Call me pretty and make me feel good, and I’m happy, y’know? But I’m openminded.”

“You _are_ pretty,” said Keith. Lance laughed and flopped back down, pressing his face into his rumpled blankets. “If we want to be adventurous down the road, we’ll talk about that then, okay?”

Lance nodded.

“I also don’t like to be called names during sex,” said Lance. “Slut, whore, stuff like that. Does not make me feel good. Firm _no_.”

“Noted,” Keith said. It was always the most awkward to explain the language he wanted to use, so he closed his eyes as he thought about how to put it. “So, uh, the words I use. I know you won’t get the wrong idea, but…well, I want to establish that I am a man and I always feel like one.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” said Lance, his furrowed brow betraying mild disgust and bewilderment. “Have other guys…implied otherwise?”

“Not really. Some fumbling along the way,” said Keith. “But a lot of that was when I was still figuring out what I wanted, too.”

“I guess Stirling lives to see another day,” said Lance, sounding disappointed. “Okay, so…”

“So, what’s technically my clit is...well it’s bigger since T, so I call it my dick. Uh. Growth and cock work too,” said Keith. “What gets confusing is the rest. If I have to call it something, I usually say pussy. It works for me, and some of the more neutral words usually don’t feel or sound right? That’s just me, though. Other guys—”

“We’re not talking about other guys, baby,” said Lance. “I hear you, okay? Whatever is good for you is good for me.”

“Sappy,” Keith said, but he leaned in for a kiss all the same. “I don’t really have anything else to say. If something comes up, we can talk again, I guess.”

“You betcha.”

Keith made a face. Lance pulled him down for another kiss, made sloppy by Lance’s giggling. The conversation was a much-needed detour for both their sakes, but with nothing else to discuss, Keith was happy to get back on course. He worked himself up again easily, pushing as much passion into kissing Lance as he could while still saving a little to gently rock his hips back and forth with Lance’s.

He was happy to find that this little bit of friction was enough to get Lance going again, too.

“Mmmmm rev your engines, boys,” Lance muttered as he tucked his face into Keith’s shoulder. Keith snorted, pushing his hands up Lance’s tank top and relishing in the warmth of Lance’s skin under his palms. “By boys I mean us. You and me,” Lance was babbling. “ _Baby_ , I want…”

“What do you want?”

“Anything. Everything,” Lance gasped, sighing happily when Keith nipped at the underside of his jaw. He smelled nice—still a little like the swimming pool, but mostly like soap and like the warm, enveloping scent of _Lance_ that Keith was growing to love even more now that he could burrow his face into it. “Shirt off.”

“Mine or yours?” asked Keith, pushing himself up to catch Lance’s gaze. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Both, obviously. As nice as you look in my clothes,” said Lance. He curled his hands in the hem of the t-shirt Keith had borrowed, dragging upwards—Keith briefly disentangled himself to pull it off over his head. Lance sat up just a little to tug his own off, getting his head caught for a second before tossing it aside and pointing an accusing finger at where it landed. “Fucking rude.”

Keith laughed at him, smoothing his hands up and down Lance’s legs. Lance grinned in return, his touch blessedly returning, one hand in the dip of Keith’s lower back and the other squeezing at his bicep. He whistled.

“Do you think you could lift me? Just in theory,” said Lance. 

“I’ll get there,” Keith said. “I gotta work my way back up, and I’m not just doing upper body—I do leg day, endurance…”

“Gym rat.” 

“You’re heavier than you look,” Keith went on, ignoring Lance’s teasing. “You’re all lean muscle.”

He pinched Lance’s strong thigh for emphasis. Lance kicked out playfully, gently, and then drew back in to squeeze Keith’s hips between his legs. He tipped his body, flipping them over smoothly; Keith went easily, landing against Lance’s messy bedclothes.

“ _I’m_ all muscle? Look who’s talking,” said Lance, feeling up Keith’s torso. Keith flexed his abdomen to show off the muscle developing there, and Lance doubled back to run both hands over Keith’s stomach. “You look so good. I’ve wanted to touch you all day.”

He was straddling Keith now, stretched over him and looking marvelously indecent with his tented shorts, mussed hair, and the deep pink flush that had traveled down his neck and chest. 

“I love you,” said Keith. “Come down here.”

Lance shifted, easing one leg between Keith’s so he could more comfortably press forward, lining his bare chest up with Keith’s and kissing him tenderly, tracing Keith’s lip with his tongue, licking into his mouth. Obscene and lovely all at once. Keith wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulder to hold him there. In some places around his scars, Keith felt the prickle of pins-and-needles instead of the warmth of Lance’s skin, but everywhere else felt phenomenal. He’d always wanted this, to feel his bare chest up against someone else’s, but his breasts had always been in the way—both literally and because his dysphoria made it almost unthinkable. To have this now, with _Lance_ , was…it was just _wow_.

Especially with the way he could roll his hips against Lance’s thigh, seeking pressure and friction—he found that if he moved just so, his dick brushed against a seam in his underwear. Everything felt hot, in the sexy way but also in terms of temperature, and Keith felt a little like he was going to combust if he didn’t get his pants off really soon.

One of Lance’s hands came up to Keith’s face, hastily tucking his hair aside and out of his face—in the midst of his efforts his mouth slipped from Keith’s messily. Lance went with it, kissing the corner of his mouth, his chin, up his cheek, nosing into a particularly sensitive place by his ear—Keith’s nails dug into his shoulder, and Lance hummed against his skin.

“Yeah?” asked Lance. “You like that?”

“I like _you_ ,” Keith said, reaching up between them to redirect Lance’s face, aiming to kiss his mouth again. Lance laughed and resisted, mouthing his way up to Keith’s temple.

“Love me, you mean,” said Lance haughtily. “I love you, too.”

Keith did love him. Loved him so much.

Lance pushed himself up, supported by one arm as his other hand toyed with the hair at Keith’s neck, winding a strand around his finger. Keith tried to follow, but Lance seemed determined to stay just out of reach.

Keith rubbed his thigh against Lance’s crotch in defiance. Lance groaned, leaning into the touch, but he wouldn’t let Keith use it as a distraction and maintained his distance.

“What?” Keith demanded.

“Nothing,” said Lance. “Just lookin’ at you.”

Keith’s face felt hot. “Lance.”

“Lookin’ at my handsome, gorgeous man,” Lance cooed. Keith had half a mind to flip them over again and redirect the conversation to less chatting and more doing. At the same time, Lance’s words and the way his thumb came around to stroke the scar on Keith’s cheek had him feeling a little melty inside. “And you’re half naked in my bed. This is a dream come true.”

“Why stop at half naked?” asked Keith. “We could be more naked.”

“Oh, entirely naked does look good on me, actually,” said Lance.

“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” said Keith. While Lance was still hovering, Keith flashed a cocky smile up at him and withdrew his hands from Lance’s back. Before Lance could pout, Keith had his hands back on him, walking his fingers down Lance’s front. “Wanna show me?”

“Yes, yes, yes I do,” said Lance, nodding energetically as he watched Keith toy with the button on the fly of his shorts, visibly restraining himself from pushing his bulge right into Keith’s palm. Keith would not have objected. “Please, baby?”

Feeling like teasing him further, Keith dropped his hands to his own fly instead, wrangling it open and spreading it wide to reveal his boxer briefs.

“Polka dots? Cute,” said Lance. “Can I….”

Keith didn’t even know what Lance was asking to do, but he nodded all the same, delighting in Lance’s hurry to tug Keith’s slacks off. He moved so quickly he toppled over, laughing at himself in a short burst before resuming the job. Keith helped, lifting his hips and pushing them down while Lance pulled.

“I love your tight pants,” said Lance, gritting his teeth. “But they’re kind of a bitch to get off.”

“Dramatic,” said Keith, kicking them off the edge of the bed. Lance nestled between his now bare legs, face pressed into Keith’s stomach. “Do you love my abs more than you love me?”

Lance lifted his head. “No!”

“Good, great. I thought you were gonna get naked,” Keith said, poking Lance’s hip with his toe, pushing at his shorts fruitlessly. “Still see clothes.”

Lance didn’t reply, instead kissing around Keith’s navel and palming at his inner thigh. Keith wiggled in his grasp, not really away from the touch but towards it.

“Keith—”

“Yes,” said Keith, more than willing to wait a little longer for Lance to strip if it meant he would put his mouth even just closer to where Keith wanted it.

Once consent was given, Lance didn’t bide his time, mouthing at the front of Keith’s underwear and further dampening it. Keith gasped and his hips rolled up into Lance’s warmth of their own volition. Lance’s hand slid under the leg of his boxer briefs and his thumb traced circles into tender skin; his nose bumped Keith’s dick and pulled a groan from his throat.

“S’that okay?” asked Lance.

“Yeah, yes, good,” Keith babbled. “ _Lance_.”

Lance’s tongue and soft lips found purchase further down, tracing Keith’s wetness down to the source and prodding gently, sucking, earning all sorts of mildly embarrassing sounds for his efforts. Keith’s thighs wanted to close around his head, but Lance’s hands worked their way up to keep them spread just enough.

He hadn’t even touched Keith full on yet, but it was already so good.

Then Lance was kissing his thigh instead of his pussy, his hands pulling off his legs and onto his hips—Keith didn’t even fully grasp that he was sad at the loss before he clocked that Lance was peeling the waistband of his underwear down; moving his head to kiss newly bared skin. He helped Lance get them all the way off, and then he was totally naked in front of someone else for the first time in a long fucking time.

The last time was also in front of Lance, but Lance looked away when Keith stripped and jumped into the pool. Then, everything was hidden in the water and Lance was too busy admiring the moon and swimming laps and splashing Keith’s face when he got the chance.

“What’re you thinking about?” asked Lance, kneeling at the end of the bed. His hands were at the front of his shorts, but he had paused in undoing them, looking at Keith instead.

“When we went skinny dipping.”

“Oh,” said Lance, cracking a smile. “I remember.”

“It’s the last time I was naked with someone,” said Keith. “It was different, obviously, but I guess I…you were special before you were… before I even knew how special.”

“Fuck, man,” said Lance. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Lance made to crawl up the bed again, but Keith held him back with a foot.

“Pay the toll,” said Keith. “Pants off.”

Lance chuckled and pushed up and off of the bed, stepping easily out of his shorts and revealing obnoxious flamingo patterned boxers.

“You a bridge troll now?” he asked.

“Guess so,” said Keith. Lance hesitated, toying with the waistband of his underwear and chewing on his lip like he was thinking. Keith sat up, drawing his legs together. “Are you…do you want to slow down?”

Lance looked down at his hands, then back up at Keith. “I…don’t know. I just started thinking. Psyched myself out a little.”

“Okay,” said Keith.

“Yeah,” said Lance. “I’m okay. I’m…”

“You want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, I kinda want to talk about it,” said Lance, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I just don’t know what it is. I can’t believe I’m fucking stuck in my head when you’re…when you look like that...”

Lance took an eyeful, rubbed his hand over his mouth, and looked at the ceiling.

“I love you,” said Keith.

“I really, really love you,” said Lance. He put one knee up on the bed, leaning in a little, grazing his hand up Keith’s outstretched calf. His eyes followed his hand. “That’s what’s getting me, I think. The whole…weight of this. It’s _us_ , man.”

“You’re nervous because it’s us.”

“Yes!” Lance said. He flopped down next to Keith, scooching up so they were shoulder to shoulder. “It’s anticipatory anxiety. When you want something so bad, for so long, that it’s a little scary to have it. I don’t know if I’m worried about being disappointed or being disappointing, but neither makes sense.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That doesn’t make sense,” said Keith, shaking his head. Lance huffed, and Keith turned over on his side to face him. “Like you said, it’s _us_. That means…I don’t know, Lance. To me that means that yes, it’s important, but also that everything will be fine. It’ll be good no matter what.”

Lance hid his face in his hands, but Keith could still see his smile, a glimpse of the adorable little gap in his bottom row of teeth. Keith leaned over him, kissing his shoulder, his chest, his neck; when he got to Lance’s face, he kissed the back of his hands and then gently pulled them off. Lance half-sighed, half laughed, his hand finding Keith’s hip and bringing it around to palm his ass.

“Well if there’s one thing I know for sure,” said Lance. “It’s that your ass is phenomenal.”

Keith rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss Lance again, making use of a messier technique. He used his tongue liberally, licking into Lance’s mouth and changing the angle of his jaw intermittently to keep it exciting. As Keith explored his mouth, Lance’s hands explored Keith’s body, his left arm eventually curling around his back and shifting his body further to that side, steadying Keith against his hip.

Keith ached to fill the small gap it left between them, but the feeling didn’t last long; Lance quickly made use of the space, spreading his palm out over Keith’s abdomen and probing the trail of hair starting at his bellybutton. So that was why he’d moved Keith—to free up his dominant hand.

Keith groaned as he realized and pulled his mouth away, hiding his face in sheets beside Lance’s head instead. Lance made a soft, laugh-like sound, and slid his fingers lower, brushing against the first wiry curls of Keith’s pubic hair. 

“Lube,” said Keith, turning his face towards Lance and murmuring it right into his ear. “Where’sit?”

“Mmm,” said Lance. “Fuck, hang on.”

Lance gripped Keith’s hips and flipped him onto his back; Keith squawked indignantly, but Lance just chuckled and continued to disentangle himself. Keith stretched his neck out to see over the edge of the bed, watching as Lance crouched to retrieve what they needed. His stash turned out to be…not quite what Keith expected. 

Keith kept his stuff in a shoebox covered in stickers and tucked into his underbed storage from Ikea; in terms of the balance between dignified and reeking of bachelorhood, he and Lance were about the same. Lance’s supplies were arranged neatly, presumably in order of how frequently he used them, just like he organized his skincare and cosmetics. But they were also in a blue milkcrate with one handle that was broken and one that was duct-taped together.

“Oh, wow,” said Keith. “Did you sort the condoms by type, or…?”

“No, I just keep them all together in this box—oh, you’re making fun of me,” Lance said, looking up from the crate. With a long-suffering sigh, Lance pulled his collection out further. “Fine. Look, laugh, whatever. I have three different kinds of lube and I keep an extra bottle of each. Condoms in the Trojan box, but the Trojans are gone and this is mostly the free ones from the health office at school. And these boxes,” Lance tapped the top of the pile of narrow boxes that lined the side of the milkcrate. “These are my other things.”

“Other things, huh?”

“Mhm,” said Lance. Keith leaned over the side of the bed to get a better look at how many boxes Lance had managed to stack in the crate. Lance shrugged, picking out a bottle and fishing through the condoms. “My roommate sleeps like thirty feet away and has a white noise machine. I take advantage.”

Keith had not thought about it that way. It was good to know that they wouldn’t have to go to great lengths to keep it down on the nights that Hunk was home.

“Good to know,” said Keith. “Get back up here.”

Lance tossed up the bottle and put his selected condoms on his nightstand, not even bothering to shove his stupid sex box back under the bed before getting to his feet.

“Off?” Lance asked, hooking his thumb into his waistband. Keith nodded, rising up to his knees and reaching for Lance, who laughed and dodged him just long enough to shimmy out of his shorts and kick them aside.

Keith didn’t really bother to look before dragging Lance back into bed by the elbows, the first part of him that Keith could get a good grip on. They went down in a tangle of limbs, Keith’s head landing near the pillows and Lance’s just barely missing a collision with Keith’s chin. One moment they were laughing, the next Lance was kissing the underside of Keith’s jaw, mouthing his way down to his clavicle and focusing his attention there just long enough to leave a mark.

Lance felt so warm, so pleasantly heavy on top of Keith, both of them naked as the day they were born. Keith wanted nothing else, and at the same time he wanted so much more. He slid his hands into Lance’s hair and pulled him up, crashing their mouths together again and only wincing a little when their teeth clashed for a second. Lance kissed back with enthusiasm, wrapping his arm around Keith’s back to try and press closer—in the process, Lance’s cock slid against Keith’s hip. He groaned, but kept kissing Keith with just as much resolve.

Keith let go of his hair with one hand and blindly groped around the bed for the bottle of lube, breathing a satisfied “Aha” into Lance’s mouth when his fingers found cool plastic. He brought it over, taking a second away from the kiss to open his eyes and find Lance’s free hand curled around the edge of a blanket; Keith nudged at his hand with the bottle and Lance made a noise of acknowledgement into Keith’s pulse point.

“Don’t leave a hickey there, your parents will see it,” said Keith, half teasing. This time, Lance’s groan was more out of frustration than arousal. He adjusted himself, slipping his arm out from under Keith and freeing both of his hands up to fumble with the lube bottle in his hand. “Hm, what’re you gonna do with that?”

“I have some ideas,” said Lance, popping the bottle open and depositing a small puddle of lube onto his fingers. He massaged it around a little, spreading and warming it, before closing the bottle again and leaving it within reach. With his dry hand, he found Keith’s knee. “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Keith nodded and opened his legs for Lance to return to his place between them, sighing when Lance’s hand moved from his knee to the inside of his thigh, digging into the soft skin there and spreading Keith open further. Lance kissed up Keith’s body, skipping over his scars to his shoulders and trailing up his throat. Keith leaned up in search of Lance’s mouth, but his face was tilted the wrong way—Keith understood quickly that he was watching what he was doing. He brought his lubed hand to Keith’s folds, mixing the lube with Keith’s wetness before he prodded carefully at the base of Keith’s dick.

“How’s that?” Lance asked, looking up at Keith. Keith just grunted, rocking his hips against Lance’s hand and bumping his cock up against his palm. Lance laughed, moving his hand so that his index and middle finger slid up on either side of Keith’s dick, earning a whine that Keith tried not to feel too embarrassed about.

“Feels good,” said Keith, thrusting a little and gasping at how it felt—like he was fucking between Lance’s fingers. He closed his eyes and moved again, letting himself get a little lost in it. 

“ _Looks_ good,” said Lance. He kissed Keith’s cheek, his temple, his forehead, murmuring more lovely things about how Keith looked and sounded, but Keith wasn’t fully comprehending all of it. “That’s it, baby.”

Then, Lance slid his fingers away; Keith was miffed for a second because it felt like a loss, but Lance quickly appeased him by circling Keith’s entrance with soft, wet fingertips.

“Fuuuuck,” said Keith.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Keith huffed.

Lance teasingly scraped his teeth against Keith’s cheek before kissing him softly in the same place, pushing his fingers slowly into Keith’s pussy. The stretch was more than Keith had expected—it’d been a while since he’d actually had anything inside. But once Lance was knuckle-deep, it was nice, especially when he fluttered his walls a little around Lance’s fingers.

He sunk his hand into Lance’s hair again and brought their faces together, kissing him in short bursts with mouth open. He veered off course once Lance started thrusting slowly in and out; his kisses found Lance’s chin, cheek, and nose and earned him a few delighted giggles. The sound made Keith feel warm inside, rivaling the heat of his arousal.

“More lube?” Lance asked, nodding towards the bottle beside Keith’s hip. Keith nodded and picked it up, popping the cap and holding it out for Lance. Unfortunately, Lance had to withdraw his fingers to apply more lubrication, but instead of lying down with Keith again, he positioned his body lower on the bed. “Gonna use my mouth a little, if that’s cool?” 

“Great idea.”

Lance flashed a lovely grin up at Keith before nosing between Keith’s legs, almost where Keith wanted him but not quite. He could hear the slippery sound of Lance warming the fresh lube, but his attention was quickly rerouted as Lance carefully took Keith’s dick into his mouth. The sound Keith made was low and guttural, and Lance responded with a hum that felt amazing against Keith’s sensitive growth. And then Lance’s fingers were back, three of them this time, spreading more lube around before sinking inside.

The wonderful things he was doing with his mouth—alternating between suction and licking up and down Keith’s cock—were a fitting accompaniment to the rhythm of his fingers. Keith didn’t know if he’d ever enjoyed being fingered quite this much. Eventually, the pleasure climbed and climbed to a crescendo and Keith made a breathy, squeaky sound as he came. Lance slowed his fingers, his other hand rubbing soothing circles along the outside of Keith’s thigh. He sucked Keith gently through his orgasm, and as it dwindled down into just a steady warmth, Lance pulled off with a satisfied hum.

“Wow,” he said.

“Wow,” Keith echoed. Lance pushed himself up, leaning over to the nightstand, but Keith closed his thighs around Lance’s hips so he couldn’t go far. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up a bit,” said Lance. “Somebody just came all over my face.”

“Don’t care,” said Keith. “I wanna kiss you.”

“The lube tastes like—”

“Don’t care,” Keith repeated. Lance shook his head and fumbled with his drawer anyway, pulling out a baby wipe to swipe across his face and hands. Keith heaved a sigh, letting Lance go so he could toss it into the trash and actually make the basket. When Lance was done, Keith sat up and pushed him onto his back, eliciting more lovely laughter.

He swung a leg over, sitting on Lance’s torso and reveling just a little in the way Lance’s warm abdomen felt against his sensitive pussy. He bucked a little bit to indulge that feeling, and then leaned down to capture Lance’s mouth with his own. He kissed tenderly, like they weren’t stark naked and covered in lube and sweat. It was like how Lance had kissed Keith in the kitchen the night they got together, after Keith confessed that he was afraid Lance would leave him; it was a kiss that tasted like a promise.

Lance’s hand slid along Keith’s back, up into his hair—the way Lance touched him made Keith feel cherished, and he felt like maybe he’d never had a partner who loved him like that. He hoped he never would again; he didn’t want anyone but Lance.

Keith pulled away from the kiss and mouthed his way down Lance’s neck. He sat up a moment, smoothing his hands over the planes of Lance’s chest, dipping his thumb into the groove of his collarbone.

“I feel like I haven’t paid enough attention to you,” said Keith, bending to press a kiss against Lance’s planet tattoo. It had been very faint when Keith met him, had looked almost like the blueish smudge of a bruise; Lance had gotten it redone by a professional eventually, so that it really stood out against his skin.

“What do you mean?” asked Lance, his voice rumbling a little in his chest and throat, so close to Keith’s ear. Keith nuzzled into him a little more.

“You were so good to me, I think you deserve a little something special, right?” asked Keith. Lance hummed, stroking the back of Keith’s head as he moved his lips down his chest. Keith shifted his body back, situating himself between Lance’s thighs so he could reach lower. He licked at Lance’s nipple and earned a sigh; he sucked lightly and earned a groan.

Keith took a few minutes to shower both nipples with affection before nosing his way further down, kissing down to show similar love to his hipbones, then spent even longer kissing and touching his beautiful toned thighs. Lance was so receptive and made such pretty sounds; his skin tasted of salt and musk and Keith loved it more than it made sense to love it.

Lance was already gasping and squirming by the time Keith lightly traced his thumb around where the head of his dick peeked through the foreskin.

“Keith,” Lance whispered reverently, “Keith, Keith, Keith.”

“Yeah?” Keith asked, lifting his head. He almost didn’t want to stop looking, fascinated by what he was doing to Lance with just a few careful touches. He wondered if Lance’s cock was really that much more sensitive with foreskin, or if he was just that worked up. 

“I want you, I want you so bad,” said Lance. His hands flailed against Keith’s sweaty shoulders, trying to get a good grip and pull him up. Keith laughed into Lance’s hip before adjusting himself to lay in the cradle of Lance’s hips, careful not to jostle his cock too much. Still, his thigh rubbed against it, and Lance’s hips jumped up a little bit.

Keith turned his attention to the array of condoms Lance had left on the bedside table, selecting the one he thought would make them both feel best—the wrapper advertised that it was extra lubed and extra thin. For a smoother entry, Keith thought, and for the sensation of feeling a little closer together when Lance was inside him.

Lance’s breaths smoothed out a little as he watched what Keith was doing, his eyes following the hands that opened the condom and tossed the shiny foil aside. Lance reached down to steady his own dick, holding it in place so Keith could roll the condom down and jerk him a few times while he was at it. Lance half-gasped, half moaned.

“You ready?” asked Keith.

“Been ready,” said Lance. “You gonna ride me, baby?”

Keith couldn’t help but laugh, because Lance sounded like such a mess, but at the same time it was kind of confident and a bit sexy. Keith figured Lance had done a lot of work already, and he liked being on top a lot, so he straddled Lance again—but at his hips this time, hovering over his groin. He anchored his hands on Lance’s shoulders, finding Lance’s eyes and holding them—his pupils were blown and the light shone warmly in them, and Keith was not surprised that he felt so safe.

Keith rocked against the swell of Lance’s cock a couple of times before lining up, Lance’s hand still there to guide him. Keith took a deep breath and, as Lance’s other hand massaged his hip lovingly, he eased his way down.

“Christ,” said Lance. “Christ on a cracker.”

“The absolute sexiest thing to say in bed,” said Keith as he adjusted to the first three-quarters or so before he took the rest. When he bottomed out, he added, just as dryly. “Christ on a fucking cracker.”

“Cut me some slack,” Lance huffed. “You feel good.”

“Aw, shucks.”

Lance just groaned as Keith clenched and unclenched around him. Keith decided he was plenty ready to move, shifting up just enough that when he came back down, the head of Lance’s cock would hit him nice and deep. There was a lot to like about this position, namely that it gave Keith a lot of control to do it just how he wanted— keeping most of his partner inside himself for the full feeling, but still getting that nice thrust into all the right places. It was all the better knowing that the person attached to this dick was Lance, who he loved.

After doing this slowly a few times, Keith sped up a little, using Lance’s babbling to gauge how he was doing. The way Lance’s body bumped up against Keith’s swollen growth only added to the intensity, pushing Keith along the road to yet another orgasm, sooner rather than later.

Lance’s hands palmed at Keith’s body, gripping and stroking and loving with every groove in his fingertips and every line in his palms. Keith was so full and so loved—he moved to kiss Lance, changing the angle in the process and groaning before he reached Lance’s lips. He let out a sharp breath, and Lance hummed a little “ _aha_ ,” thrusting up into Keith to try and find that spot again. Keith let him, sinking the fingers of one hand into Lance’s hair and the other into the sheets, burying his face in Lance’s neck as their hips rolled together.

The sappy thoughts of loving Lance so much now mingled with the desperation of being brought so close, and Keith felt his eyes prickling just a little. He buried his face more, clenched his fingers tighter. When Lance brought his lithe fingers to Keith’s cock again, stroking a circle around it, Keith was absolutely done for. The release of his orgasm flooded him with endorphins and feelings, and he could feel the warm wetness of it seeping out of him and onto Lance’s body. As Keith’s walls squeezed around him, Lance only had to roll his hips a few more times before he came, mumbling into Keith’s shoulder.

Keith eased himself off of Lance’s cock, but stayed mostly on top of him, soaking up the smell of Lance’s skin and urging himself not to cry. Lance was laying kisses along the curve of Keith’s shoulder, holding him tighter around his waist, and the tenderness of was overwhelming.

It was no surprise that Lance was a cuddler. He initiated cuddling in nonsexual ways all the time, but Keith hadn’t realized how much he needed this part, too. Loving Lance so much made a world of difference; he’d had good sex before, but never quite like this. It was insane how tethered he felt to Lance’s body and his bed and this moment—

Lance sniffled.

“Lance?” Keith whispered.

“Ah, fuck,” said Lance, his voice shaky. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not always like this, I just—today’s been so much, and I love you like crazy, and…” He turned his face into Keith’s hair and the rest of what he was saying was completely unintelligible.

“ _Lance_ ,” said Keith, emphatically. There wasn’t much else to say. He pushed himself up on his elbows so Lance could see his face, blotchy and tear-streaked as it was. Lance made a sound like a whimper, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. He brought a hand up to lightly stroke the side of Keith’s face.

“Oh, baby,” said Lance. “Me too.”

“I—” Keith worked his jaw, but couldn’t find words. He couldn’t keep up with his own thoughts and feelings, so he laughed weakly and shook his head. Lance tugged him back down, cutting him off with a kiss, sweet and soft and a bit salty, between the sweat and tears. When he let go, Keith groaned. “Fuck you for making me cry.”

“You fuckin’ me sounds fun,” said Lance. “But I didn’t think you planned that far ahead.”

Keith scoffed and rolled off of Lance, but he stayed close—Lance sat up to quickly remove the condom and tie it off, leaning over the side of the bed to throw it out. He leaned so far he was almost to the point of falling off, so Keith hooked his hand around Lance’s arm to keep him from taking a tumble.

Lance insisted on pulling out his baby wipes again, wiping away some of the lingering stickiness of sex. Keith felt a little less gross for it, but he wasn’t going to admit it and give Lance the smug satisfaction. Instead he let Lance settle in beside him, snuggling in close; he let Lance pose him like a doll, wrapping Keith’s arm around his own body and clasping their hands together over his chest. It was comfy, though, and left Keith’s other hand free to play with Lance’s hair while he lay content in Keith’s embrace.

It was only a few minutes before Keith was wiggling free, not because he didn’t want to cuddle, but because he needed to piss. Not because nature called so much as Keith had been careless before and almost never peed after getting fucked, and the resulting UTI had been fucking terrible. So now, he was more diligent about it.

He found his underwear and stepped back into it, walking off while Lance bemoaned his absence.

Keith did his business swiftly so he could get back sooner, but as he washed his hands, Lance slid into the bathroom. He was still ass naked, and as Keith looked on, he unabashedly relieved himself, flushed with his foot, and elbowed Keith aside so he could wash his hands.

“So this is love,” said Keith.

“I had to go!” said Lance.

“I know,” said Keith. “But at least I had the decency to put my underwear back on.”

Lance turned off the tap and flicked water from his wet hands into Keith’s face. Petulant bastard. Keith rolled his eyes and went back to bed, and Lance dutifully followed. He held up a hand when they got there, pulling off the sweaty, vaguely stained top sheet to reveal the clean (though still slightly rumpled) fitted sheet underneath. Lance dropped the soiled sheet on the floor and kicked it out of the way before scrambling back into bed and beckoning Keith to join him.

Keith motioned for him to lay on his side and then wormed his way into Lance’s arms, taking the little spoon spot for the time being. They’d switch it up before the night was over, probably, but Keith really wanted to feel Lance’s toned chest against his back now. Lance pulled a thin blanket up over them and kissed the side of Keith’s head, right above his ear.

“I love you,” said Keith, his cheek pressed into his own outstretched arm. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

“For the sex?” Lance joked. “Thanks for the commendation.”

Keith was quiet.

“Okay. I’ll be serious,” said Lance. “I’m proud, too. If I think about it to much I’ll start crying again and I don’t want that.”

“And?” Keith prompted.

“Oh! I love you. So so so so much.”

Keith grunted in approval and closed his eyes. They didn’t go right to sleep by any means, but rather murmured to each other about nothing until their voices trailed off. With Lance’s weight beside him and the glow of intimacy—not just the sex, but this whole stretch of after—Keith slept soundly, woken only once by Dolly hopping up onto the bed curling up in the space left over, having slipped in through the door they left ajar.

****

Lance woke to his alarm, groaning and fumbling for his phone. He didn’t remember putting it on the nightstand last night, but his mind was caught up in other things. His mouth and hands and dick were caught up in other things.

Lance dismissed the alarm and sat up, frowning at the state of his bedroom. Not the mess, exactly, but the evidence of Keith strewn everywhere except for on the mattress beside him—though if he looked, he was sure he’d find a few stray black hairs. Lance pouted and wrapped himself in a blanket, all the way up to his chest like a lady in a sauna, and shuffled over to the door.

“Baby?” he called.

Keith’s head popped out of the kitchen. “Making coffee.”

Lance hummed contently and followed him, leaning on the breakfast bar and watching Keith as he reached for his favorite mug, sliding it off the mug tree on the counter. When they’d bought it at Target, the cashier had assumed it was a gift for a girl—not two (then) single guys for their shared bachelor pad. But Lance wanted nice things, dammit.

Keith waited by the coffee pot as it finished its slow drizzle, wrapping his hands around his mug and staring like a man possessed. He looked lovely as ever, maybe more so. That might’ve been the lingering postcoital glow getting to Lance’s brain cells, but still. Keith’s little fluffy ponytail looked soft and Lance wanted to play with it, the little marks Lance had left poked out from under the collar of the barely-there cropped tank top he was wearing over a fresh pair of underwear. Lance was always a little awestruck by guys in crop tops, because he was so very interested in what the crop top left exposed. Tummies and happy trails and the v of their hips and—well, the list went on. That was a general thing. He was looking respectfully.

With Keith, though, he wanted to kneel on the ground and kiss every inch of skin he could see, maybe even pushing aside some clothes to kiss even more.

“I am not looking respectfully.”

“Huh?” asked Keith, looking over. Lance kept ogling him. “Oh. Abs. They’re not even that—”

“Shhhhh. No. Don’t talk smack about them. They can hear you,” Lance demanded. Keith made a face and reached for the coffee pot, finally getting to fill his mug. “Hot coffee for hot man.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“No, just can’t stop thinking about you,” said Lance. “Hot man. Muscley.”

Keith rolled his eyes and dug out Hunk’s Splenda, pouring two into his cup and stirring it with a stray spoon near the brewer. His back was turned to Lance for the moment, so Lance gave Keith’s shoulders and back a turn at being the center of his attention.

“Do you want a cup?”

“Nah, but I can think of something else I’d like a taste of,” Lance purred. Keith snorted and hid the rest of his laugh in his hand as he turned to face Lance again, picking up his mug and holding it to his lips. Lance watched him sip slowly, and then draw it back down again.

Having composed himself, Keith said, “Thought you sampled that already.”

“Ah, you’re gross too,” Lance said. Keith brushed past him and moved into the hall, headed back towards Lance’s room. “Oooh you’re bringing it to bed, okay. Love that.”

“Just gonna drink my coffee and do my brain games,” said Keith, tossing a look over his shoulder as he passed through the doorway, weaving his way through the piles of clothes and sheets they’d left everywhere. Lance hadn’t realized they’d thrown it all off like that, but he supposed he wasn’t paying attention.

And Keith did, sitting up in bed with his legs crossed, his phone in one hand and his other returning periodically to the mug he left on his bedside table. Lance crawled into bed with him, curling up near him but not touching, lest he spill the hot coffee. He played on his own phone a while, putzing around until Keith put his cup down with a very obvious, satisfied, “Ah.”

The phone followed closely after, and the blanket Lance was clad in was thrown over both their heads as Lance tugged Keith to him, smothering him in love. Keith laughed into Lance’s cheek, turned his head to mouth at Lance’s neck, tug on his ear a little—

His hand snuck between them while Lance was accosting him, firmly pushing on the front of Lance’s hip to get him to roll onto his back. Keith threw off the blanket once more, and his lovely red crop top joined it soon enough. Lance hoped to see it again someday, but not now and probably not later today either, because he certainly wouldn’t wear it to Lance’s event.

“Torn between asking you to wear that to my pinning and just leavin it,” said Lance into Keith’s shoulder, subtly grazing his teeth there and then leaving a plush kiss in their wake. All Keith had to say about it was said easily in the way he palmed Lance’s hip and maybe felt up his ass a little too, accompanied by nuzzling and kissing at his throat. “Love you in a crop top. Love you in anything. Mmm. Love you in nothing.”

Keith lifted his head for air. “Love you always,” he said.

Lance dragged him down for a kiss, gasping into his mouth when carefully wrapped a hand around Lance’s bare cock, which warmed and pulsed at his touch. He found the lube again easily—Lance had never put it back in his box—and used it to ease the slide a little as he stroked up and down.

Lance made lots of embarrassing sounds as Keith jerked him off, but Keith made lovely sounds of approval, which was worth it. Keith paused to ask if Lance liked when the head of his cock was stimulated without the protection of his foreskin, and Lance gave a desperate nod, keening when Keith eased the skin back and thumbed carefully at one of the most sensitive parts of Lance’s whole fucking body.

His soft, “Oh,” was kind of everything. Lance would give him anything—orgasm after orgasm, the keys to his car, the rest of his life—

Lance was definitely one to get overwhelmed by grandiose dreams in the middle of sex; not the finer details of weddings and number of kids, but just the concept of having someone forever. Of the person who wanted him now wanting him forever. He didn’t really take it so seriously anymore, as the fluffy clouds tended go their separate ways when Lance came down.

But thinking about Keith in the long term—like the really long term—didn’t seem like a side effect. It seemed like natural progression. This was the man who was sometimes as dense as a chunk of cement but could still see Lance’s cues, the man who spent so much time scowling but who smiled all the time for Lance. Keith did more than make an effort with Lance’s family—he loved being around them, to the point that Lance could recall Keith suggesting a visit himself. The same Keith who once said he hated parties and felt awkward around his friend’s parents was now a favorite of Mama’s and had Abuelita’s approval and had a favorite seat at the table.

“What?” asked Keith, nosing at Lance’s cheek.

“Huh?”

“You were totally zoning out. Kinda getting a little soft on me, actually.”

“Always soft on you.”

Keith gently squeezed Lance’s cock, and he felt its interest renew. Oh, _that_.

“Where’d you go?” Keith asked softly.

“Hm. Somewhere over the rainbow,” said Lance. “Nah. Just thinking about you. How you’re…different. We’re different. Than anything I’ve had, I mean.”

“I don’t want anything else,” Keith added, nodding in agreement. It wasn’t a proposal or a decision and they weren’t moving any faster now just by getting it out in the open. But to know that Keith felt the same way about this, about _them_ , was exhilarating and reassuring all at once.

Lance took Keith’s face in his hands and kissed him with intention, with care, with everything he had the capacity for once Keith’s hand started moving again. Eventually he had to just take what Keith gave him, because he couldn’t do much but babble, his hand pushing into Keith’s hair and pulling out his ponytail so he could slide all of it through his fingers. Lance was pretty sure he was just repeating all his sweet names for Keith over and over by the time he got there, half-sighing and half groaning as he finished in Keith’s hand.

He made Keith use the wipes again, but despite the eyeroll, Lance could tell that Keith was charmed, maybe even impressed. Lance imagined that Keith’s other boyfriends were kind of gross. The standard for young cis men was low, in Lance’s experience.

Lance was trying to get comfortable between Keith’s legs to give him some fireworks of his own when they heard it—the door slamming shut down the hall and Hunk’s voice greeting the cat.

“Fuuuuck,” Keith groaned, twisting to punch a pillow.

“We can still…” Lance tried.

“No, he’s gonna come looking for you.”

Keith knew Hunk so incredibly well, too.

It was barely two minutes before Hunk was knocking lightly on the door and calling Lance’s name.

“Don’t come in!” Lance exclaimed through the fabric of a t-shirt as he pulled it over his head. Keith was donning the crop top again, which wasn’t much better than being shirtless, but it was something. At least they’d both gotten their boxers back on.

“Way to be subtle, baby,” said Keith, full of snark, but still filling Lance with happiness because he had tacked on an endearment.

Lance got his shirt on and grabbed the lounge pants from Keith’s bag to toss in his direction. He figured it would be a little more decent that way; but Hunk saw Lance in a shirt and boxers enough for it to be normal.

“It’s not like he doesn’t know,” said Keith as he stepped into the pants. “We’re adults. We’re in love. We’re celebrating. Why wouldn’t we have sex?”

“Hush,” said Lance, and now that Keith was dressed and sitting on the bed nice and casual, he tripped over himself to get to the door. He opened it to reveal Hunk, dressed sharply but not as formal as the graduation yesterday had demanded. A nice shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off some of his tatts, pressed khakis. “Looking good, my man.”

“Yeah,” said Hunk. “Moms bought me new stuff. They insisted.”

“They’re so cute.”

“So, uh. When are we leaving, again?” Hunk asked.

“It’s at twelve, so…” Lance looked over at Keith, who was looking on with an amused smirk on his face. Lance glowered a little before turning back to Hunk. “I guess like eleven thirty? The parking shouldn’t be bad, there’s only like twelve of us. The other half of the class did it on Friday.”

“Okay. It’s like ten thirty or something now.”

“Yeah,” said Lance. “Guess we should get moving.” 

“Can you get ready in an hour?” asked Keith from the bed.

“Yes, Keith. Shut up,” said Lance, pressing his forehead into the door. Hunk chuckled.

“Your family is going to take a lot of pictures,” Keith teased. “You don’t want a repeat of your high school grad photo.”

“Hold on, what?” asked Hunk. “What do you mean?”

“Massive zit,” said Keith. He brought his index finger to his own forehead. “Right there. Could see that thing on satellite.”

Lance’s jaw dropped and he let out an offended gasp. “Keith!”

“Nice knowing you, Keith,” said Hunk. “Okay, I’m gonna feed Dolly and then mind my own business for the next hour.”

“I’m not going to kill him,” said Lance, rolling his eyes.

“No, I know,” said Hunk. “Just saying I won’t bother you—or _interrupt_ you—again.”

With that, Hunk turned and walked off, making the _pspspspsps_ sound to get Dolly’s attention so he could serve her breakfast. Lance closed the door once Hunk was out of sight and earshot, whipping his shirt right back off and tossing it aside on his way back to the bed. Keith laughed and opened his arms; Lance clambered right into his embrace. He wrapped himself around Keith, all noodly limbs, and squeezed.

“Told you he would know,” Keith said, his voice muffled in Lance’s hair. Lance nuzzled Keith’s jawline and slid his hand up the back of his barely-there shirt. “Seriously, though, we have to get ready.”

“Mm. Putting on clothes takes a few minutes.” Lance lifted his head and used a hand to sweep some of Keith’s hair aside, kissing the skin he revealed.

“What about your skin stuff?” asked Keith. “And your hair?”

Lance drew away enough so he could face Keith. “I can just slap on some moisturizer and be fine because I keep up with the routine. Little bit of mousse up top. Done. Good to go.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” said Keith, looking quite skeptical. 

“Yeah,” said Lance. “If you don’t want to get off, that’s cool too. Just thought I’d return the favor.”

Keith slid his hands up Lance’s back, spreading them across his shoulder blades. He made his thinking face, and Lance leaned down to kiss the furrow between his brows. Keith snorted softly, the barest trace of a laugh.

“Fine,” said Keith, huffing as though he wasn’t all that interested. But his pupils were large and round, and when Lance ran a fingertip along his waistband, Keith’s hips tilted up into his touch. “Let’s see how fast you can get me there.”

“What’re we thinking? My hand, my mouth? I got a bullet vibe in my box,” said Lance. Keith shook his head.

“You choose.”

And so, Lance stripped off Keith’s pants and boxers and went to town, eating Keith out with vigor. This time he didn’t use his hands, instead keeping them at Keith’s hips, intertwined with Keith’s own sweaty palms and fingers. When Keith came, he squeezed Lance’s hands and brought his thighs just a little closer together around Lance’s head, but honestly, it was a nice kind of smothering. Together, they took a few minutes to come down, breathing deep and kissing slow, and when Keith could stand without stumbling like a baby deer, there was still plenty of time to get ready.

“Told you so,” Lance said as he sauntered up to his closet and drew out the white scrubs he’d been issued for the ceremony. From there, he dressed quickly, sitting smugly on the edge of the bed while Keith was still jumping to pull his skinny jeans over his hips.

There was enough time to watch a quick episode of Pokémon before they had to go, until Keith tried to put his hair up and snapped the elastic; he took forever to find another one and they did end up leaving later than planned.

But it wasn’t Lance’s fault, so his _told you so_ stood true.

****

They arrived at the ceremony with enough time to meet up with Lance’s family, so Hunk and Keith could find their seats and Lance could grab Rachel before heading backstage. Once they were checked in, they lined up with the other graduates and their family members or friends, waiting for their cue. Rachel jabbed Lance in the ribs, startling a yelp out of him.

“What?” Lance demanded.

“So…?”

“So _what_?”

Rachel snickered. “You went home with Keith last night.”

“Well, yeah? He was my ride,” said Lance. Rachel groaned and pressed her palm to her face. “Did I engage in sexual intercourse with him? Is that the question?”

“Laaance.”

“He certainly could have just dropped me off and gone home, and then picked me up this morning,” said Lance, tapping his chin as he considered other possibilities of what they could have done. Just to drag it out and bug Rachel, obviously. “Or slept on the couch. Or we just snuggled all night long.”

“Disgusting,” said Rachel. “I bet you did snuggle all night. You’re so romantic and boring.”

“There _was_ a lot of snuggling. After the sex.”

Rachel pushed him, nearly shoving him into the next pair in line. It was Steph, the last person Lance had dated before Keith, and her best friend Anna. They had both overheard, and Steph laughed brightly as she threw an arm around Lance’s shoulder.

“He’s not boring,” said Steph. “And the cuddling is almost the best part.”

Lance shook her off, but not before Rachel tuned in and figured out that Steph knew from experience what Lance was like in the sack. It had only been a few dates, but one night had ended with a little exploring below the belt and he’d fallen asleep in her dorm. They’d split up shortly after.

Now that someone else was part of the conversation, Lance felt his cheeks heat up. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Rachel, who was looking between Steph and Lance with a muddled expression on her face—Lance was good at reading her, but not flawless.

“It was before Keith,” Lance clarified.

“Fucking obviously,” said Rachel. “You’re too gone for Keith to cheat on him. Also, you don’t cheat on people.”

“He had it bad for Keith even when he was seeing me,” said Steph. Lance pursed his lips—she wasn’t really wrong, but he hadn’t realized that she knew about his thing for his best friend. Though he probably should have given her some credit. She wasn’t stupid and Lance wasn’t really subtle. “I’m glad you finally got it together. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Yeah,” said Lance. “Yeah, I—I’m sorry.”

Steph shook her head. “Don’t be. It was fun.”

The last day or so had been so much, Lance couldn’t help it—he turned to Steph and hugged her, delighting in her warm laugh as she leaned into him. She squeezed his middle in return, and she was so soft, and Lance loved that. He really had loved getting to know Steph better, treating her to a few nice dinners, kissing her and being kissed by her. But they were friends, and that was all it had ever been, really, and he couldn’t regret a thing.

“You better stay in touch,” said Steph when she released him. “More than just your Instagram feed, Lance. I wanna hear about all your big steps.”

“You too,” said Lance. “I wanna hear about yours, too.”

“This is adorable,” said Rachel. “Really. But I think the thing is going to start.”

And then one of the backstage hands was ushering them onstage, where the chairs had been set up in a semicircle around the podium. As they made their entrance, there were several camera flashes in the audience—Lance was certain at least one flash came from the camera that his father was holding up over the empty seats in front of him.

It was Professor Smythe who began the ceremony, with all of his eccentric flair. He nursed and taught and still had the energy to be extra as hell every single day, but today he brought his sentimental side. His speech had jokes that only a few audience members laughed at with him, but he made up for it in spades—Lance could feel how proud he was of all of them.

Smythe’s speech ended and he announced the first graduate, who stepped up to the mic with their mother at their side.

Lance watched as his friends and classmates bore their hearts to the audience, their speeches ranging from long stories to short, sweet declarations of love and thanks. Smythe presented each chosen loved one with the little blue and gold pins, looking on as the pins were secured to the front of the students’ scrubs. One student had to help his grandmother, because her hand shook, and another pinned herself because the toddler at her hip was too young to get it.

Lance blinked rapidly to keep himself from tearing up more than he already had, watching Anna place Steph’s pin and pull her into a hug the moment it was firmly attached. They returned to their seats, and Steph gave Lance a reassuring smile as Coran called his and Rachel’s names.

Lance stepped up to the mic, adjusting it so he didn’t have to lean down. From his pocket he retrieved his notes—he’d decided he couldn’t plan every word—and unfolded them, smoothing out the creases a little as he laid the paper down in front of him.

“Hi,” he began, brightly. “My name is Leandro Espinosa McClain, but everyone calls me Lance. I’m dedicating my pin to my sister, Rachel.”

Rachel smiled and waved at the audience. She was lovely in the limelight, as always, her hair pulled up with flattering tendrils falling free around her face and her dress draped perfectly around her—it was a shade of creamy white that looked especially good against her skin.

“I have a big family,” Lance went on. “There is no shortage of love and support under our roof, but Rachel stands out in several ways—most importantly because we’re twins. We aren’t telepathically linked or anything, but we have a special something between us that comes from being together every step of the way.

“Before we grew into our long limbs, we were especially accident prone—Rachel especially, not just because she was clumsier, but because she was just a little bolder. She’d run a little faster, so she’d trip on the uneven sidewalk first, which sometimes meant that I didn’t. Sometimes, I just fell on top of her,” Lance paused as a laugh passed over the audience. “I noticed that when she had a band aid, she felt better, so I started carrying them. Yes, I was a six-year-old with a first aid kit. We’re out there. We exist.”

Lance let them laugh again, turning his grin on Rachel, who was smiling tearfully at him as he spoke.

“When we were eight, our family moved here from Cuba, and it was the scariest thing we’d ever done. I was scared myself, but I had never seen Rachel so terrified; she needed a hand to hold, and I was proud to be that person for her. I couldn’t protect her from everything, but I could help her be brave,” said Lance. “So, I dedicate my pin to Rachel not just because we shared the womb, but because of what she’s taught me about myself. Rachel unlocked my desire to nurture, and taught me the rewards of helping; it was because of Rachel that I figured out that inspiring courage and healing in others makes me stronger and braver.

“Rachel doesn’t need me for strength or bravery anymore, but she’s part of me. There’s a little bit of her in every stupid thing I do, but also in every good thing. Especially in the good things. So, thank you, Rachel.”

Rachel pulled him into her arms the moment he finished talking. Without even fully letting go of Lance, she took the pin that Smythe handed her. She poked Lance with the sharp part as she pushed it through his collar, but she whispered an apology quickly as she clicked the backing into place and patted the cool enamel with her finger tip. Two little taps, kind of like a heartbeat.

Lance drew her into a hug again, squeezing her tightly and lifting her up off of the stage a few inches. He quickly put her down, and they hurried back to their seats so the next pair could go up. 

“You were wrong about one thing,” Rachel murmured as they sat down, leaning towards him so only he could hear. “I do still need you. I’m just better at pretending that I don’t.”

“I guess I kind of knew that,” said Lance. “I just needed reminding.”

“Me too,” said Rachel.

“Thank you for doing this,” Lance whispered. Rachel laughed softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Of course you do,” she said. “I’m brilliant.”


End file.
